


A Rush of Blood to the Head

by MellytheHun



Series: The Mermaid AU [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Flirting, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Gift Fic, Humor, M/M, Merpeople, Pre-Slash, Romance, Surfer Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 04:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9531368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: Scott leaves Stiles alone for something like five minutes and Stiles is attacked by a shark, nearly drowns and discovers merpeople because of course he would.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a duplicate-gift fic for Emma (pale-silver-comb) and my first-place Tumblr-follower giveaway, Hannah (mermaid-reyes). Part one was for Emma and part two is for Hannah <3

Stiles comes to, coughing up some water and turning over on a rigid, porous rock. He looks out at the shore blearily and sees the Jeep, but no sign of Scott. He must not be back yet - he left for food… some time ago? Stiles doesn’t remember how time works. Time is complicated and it's probably not even real. He rubs the back of his head and feels a very sensitive bump forming.

He has that standard ‘ _what happened?_ ’ thought and suddenly the memories all hit him in a flash - sitting on his board, preparing himself for the next wave and then suddenly being knocked around and tossed underwater. The roll of the wave threw him around like a rag doll, his head hit something dense and prickly and when he turned, blearily opening his eyes in the painful salt water, he saw the lightless eyes of a shark staring back at him.

Stiles shoots upright on the rock, looks at his ankle and sees that his band has been broken. He looks down at his body and sees no blood, no wounds and certainly no bite marks. All of his limbs are where he last saw them too.

He looks out onto the water and sees his board, ripped to smithereens and floating away with the riptide. He makes a pitiful sob of mourning and then wonders out loud, “ - how did I -”

“You didn’t.”

Making some undignified noise, Stiles jumps and looks behind him. There’s another large rock protruding from the water and there’s a man there with dark hair and glittering eyes. Stiles swallows nervously and asks, “did you save me?”

“Fortunately for you, yeah, I’m a fast swimmer.”

“ _Dude_ \- get up on the rock!” Stiles says urgently, patting at it frantically, “There’s a _fuckin’ shark in the water_! What are you still _doing_ there?!”

The man smiles placatingly and says, “don’t worry about me. How’s your head?”

“Uhm, full of anxiety and Jaws-infused nightmares because you aren’t GETTING ON _THE ROCK_?”

“I don’t need to get on the rock.”

“I’m sorry, did you _kill_ the shark?” Stiles asks sarcastically, “Because, don’t get me wrong, you look like you’re made out of Patrick Swayze Roadhouse-era prime ass-kicking muscle, but I hit my fuckin’ head on that shark and it was like hitting a fuckin’ block of cement. So, forgive my skepticism, but I’m feelin’ like the rock is a good place for you right now.”

“They’ve got an outer skin like serrated armor,” the man replies with a tone of grim agreement, “I know - I’ve dealt with them before. And you hit your head pretty hard on him too. Knocked you out cold. Once you get to shore, you should put some ice on that as soon as you can.”

The validation is nice, but Stiles shakes his head, tying to stay on task, “okay, before I develop some _other_ neurological condition because you _won’t get on the fucking rock_ , can you give me _one_ fuckin’ good reason why I shouldn’t grab you by your neck and pull you up onto here?”

The man hesitates, but must see the determination in Stiles' eyes.

“Just the one?” the man bargains.

“One," Stiles assures, "Considering there's a fucking shark in the water, it’s gotta be pretty fuckin’ solid, dude.”

The man sighs and out from the water behind him, a scaled, enormous tail breaks from the surface. The fins along the sides of it and at the end of it look heavy, but they’re transparent and shimmer under direct sunlight.

Stiles’ eyes go wider than he knows they can go.

“…no fuckin’ way.”

“You said one.”

“No _fuckin’ way_ \- you’re - you -”

“I’m _Derek_ ,” he interrupts, “and seeing as I just saved your life, I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to not flip your shit.”

“I LITERALLY ALMOST JUST DIED AND WAS SAVED BY A MERMAN AND YOU WANT ME TO PLEASE NOT _FLIP MY SHIT_?”

Derek crosses his arms on the rock, resting his forehead down in defeat, his tail slipping back into the water.

“I had a feeling I should’ve let it eat you.”

“FIRST OF ALL, THAT IS SO RUDE,” Stiles scolds, heart pounding, “SECONDLY, I HAVE APPROXIMATELY FORTY-SEVEN QUESTIONS.”

Before Stiles can ask his questions, Derek makes him verify how many fingers he’s holding up, asks him for the month, the year, how old he is, where he lives and once Derek is content that Stiles doesn’t have a concussion, they formally introduce themselves.

That’s all the formality Stiles’ loud and flamboyant personality apparently allows for, though, seeing as directly after their formal introduction, he jumps right into his list of literally forty-seven questions. Some questions have parts to them that lead to other questions - Stiles says those don’t count, but seeing as Derek is still being forced to teach him sea mythology 101, Derek would argue that yes, they count.

“So, they’re scared of dolphins and merpeople?”

“Sometimes,” Derek clarifies, “I’m an Alpha, which means I’m the leader of my school. It’s why my tail is long like that - most others are shorter. It also means I’ve got enough muscle power in it to crush a great white like a guy your size can crush a soda can.”

“I’m not sure if I take offense to that or not.”

Derek smirks, “take offense.”

“Are all mermen rude?” Stiles asks, brows high, “or is it just you?”

“Just me.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, “yeah, well… thanks for saving me. I have no idea what I’m gonna say to Scott, though. He left to get food and I’ll bet you anything he got distracted by some _other_ type of tail, if ya know what I mean.”

Derek gives him a dry stare and Stiles pulls his knees up, rearranging himself to get slightly more comfortable. The rock doesn’t allow for too much of that.

“To be honest, I’m sorta scared to get back in the water.”

Derek must sense how defeated Stiles feels in admitting that because his expression turns sympathetic. He plays it casual, though, telling Stiles, “there weren’t any other sharks nearby and that one is long gone. The water is safe. There is some painfully pointy coral below you, though, so don’t climb down from the rock - just jump and keep close to the surface of the water until you’re four or five feet out.”

Stiles nods but doesn't seem at all ready to reenter the water; he looks down at his feet then over to where Derek's arms are, looking for a distraction. After a moment, he asks, “so, what do you, like… eat?”

“…food?”

Stiles tilts his head, meeting Derek's eyes again, “like normal people food?”

Another dry stare.

“ _Yes_ , Stiles, like _normal people food_.”

“How can you -” Stile stops himself, his brain already constructing more theories around everything Derek’s already told him, “wait! Wait! Back the fun bus the fuck up - can you _walk_ on _land_?”

“Ding, ding, ding.”

Stiles thinks his awe and curiosity is entirely justified, so he insults Derek's sarcasm, “that is the most unenthusiastic dinging I’ve ever heard.”

“You hear a lot of dinging?”

Stiles glares playfully at him, “you’re sort of an asshole, Derek.”

“Yeah, and you’re sort of really, really annoying, Stiles.”

A grin splits across Stiles’ lightly sunburnt face and he asks, “okay, so - what about your eyes?”

Derek’s thick brows pull together.

“What _about_ my eyes?”

“I mean - your eyes are like seven different colors. What does that mean in mer-culture? I need this, you know. My cryptozoology blog followers aren’t gonna buy a fuckin’ second of this, but it _is_ going on the internet so help me.”

Derek seems disarmed for a moment. He looks away and scratches at his scruff, “uhm - eyes don’t change when you’re Turned. They… those are just my eyes.”

“Oh,” Stiles says dumbly, “I thought they might… they’re just really beautiful.”

Derek looks at him with some degree of surprise and Stiles laughs this high-pitched, nervous note and rambles, “wow! Wowza! Wowie-wow-wow, IIIIIII must’ve swallowed some salt water, huh? Where’s the filter, right? Oh! Double joke on that! Where’s my inner-filter and where’s the filter for the water! Get it? I’m - wow. Just. Listen, it’s been a long day, I’m super hungry, I got fuckin’ knocked out in the first round by a shark, then rescued by a Herculean motherfucking merman, my shoulders are burning and I'm still not totally sure this isn't a super, well-constructed hallucination so, I don’t mean to make you feel awkward or anything, dude, like even objectively you're eyes are like bismuth crystals and - I’m… am I talking too much?”

Smiling gently, Derek answers, “yeah, but it’s okay. It’s been a long day.”

“It _has_ ,” Stiles agrees nervously, face burning for more than the sun beating down on it, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck, “It has been a long day. Uhm… if I go now… will I… can I see you again?”

“Why?”

“Sheesh, Derek, don’t get so sentimental,” Stiles snarks, regaining some of his social footing, “Let’s see, why might I want to see you again? Well, you saved my life and I feel indebted to you, you saved my life and I _idolize_ you, you are a _merman_ and the first supernatural encounter I’ve ever had and I have _a mighty need_ for more, I have accumulated twenty-nine other questions since I started talking, I want to learn everything about you and your family and school and culture and life, I get attached to people super easily -”

“How long is this list?”

“I’ve got sixty more points, but if you agree to hang out with me again, I can stop there.”

Derek seems to want to look annoyed, but misses annoyed by a mile and lands somewhere between flattered and endeared. He smiles despite himself and says, “fine. Let me help you back into the shallow waters and I’ll stay with you until Scott shows up, okay?”

Stiles grins at him, “thanks, Derek.”

Derek moves to the side of the rock Stiles is on and wraps his broad hands around Stiles’ forearms. He helps Stiles off the rock - helps more than Stiles originally thought he’d need. His legs are weak, though and he thinks to himself that he might be in some degree of shock. He was attacked by a shark, after all. He should probably still stop by the hospital and make sure he’s really okay. Maybe he needs one of those shock blankets.

Derek takes the weight of him as he moves Stiles into the water, over the pointy coral to avoid it and back into the water deep enough that Stiles has to tread. He’s gripping Derek’s arms harder than he means to. When he says so, Derek tells him it’s fine, to just focus on his body and let him know if something feels wrong.

“I just feel weak,” Stiles admits worriedly, “like, if I were standing, my knees would’ve given out already.”

Derek gives him a worried look, slanting his mouth and muttering, “okay, come here.”

Without any preamble, he gathers Stiles up against him and directs, “put your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. I’ll get you to the shallows.”

“Hey -” Stiles says nervously, “Uhm - would it - I mean… would you be willing to let me be underwater with you?”

“You mean… like when I swim?”

“Yeah.”

Derek contemplates this briefly, then shrugs and says, “okay. But only because you’ve had a rough day. I’m not a tourist attraction, alright?”

“No, definitely not - no, I just - this is super awesome? I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Derek reassures, “It’s fine. I know - I get that you don’t mean anything by it. Okay - I’m gonna pull us underwater and when I do, I want your eyes to be shut. You’re gonna feel me press my hands near your eyes - this is to protect your eyes from the salt, so you can open them without any pain, okay?”

Stiles nods, heart pounding.

“Okay,” Derek says and then he’s pulling them below the surface.

Stiles’ eyes are shut and he feels Derek’s thumbs press against the far corners of his eyes. He feels a cold rush over his eyes like a wind might feel against them, but they don’t go dry or otherwise feel uncomfortable.

_**Okay. You can open your eyes.** _

Stiles’ eyes shoot open and he opens his mouth, releasing a ton of bubbles and incoherent noise, until he thinks - _Jesus fuckin’ Christ! You have telepathy??_

**_How else did you think we communicated underwater?_ **

_Whale noises??? I don’t know!_

**_How do your eyes feel?_ **

Stiles blinks and looks around - the sunlight is breaking over the surface of the water, making beautiful ripples across the sand maybe ten feet below. He sees a lot of colorful fish passing in schools and he sees the vibrant but painful looking coral reef Derek lifted him away from. He can see everything so vibrantly.

He looks at Derek and looks down his body - his torso is strong, he’s gotta be _only_ muscle. His dark chest hair looks thinner and lighter under the water, just like the thick hair on his head and his eyes look just as magnificent.

His lower body is made up of a tail that has to go on for at least six feet. It’s reflective, shining and extremely intimidating. Underwater, he _does_ look like a predator. Stiles looks back into Derek’s eyes.

_How do you breathe?_

Derek lifts his arms, presenting his lower ribs and reveals the thin gils there, opening and closing like shutters on a window. Once he puts his arms down again, he secures Stiles to him and starts moving his tail from side-to-side.

 _Like a shark_ , Stiles thinks.

_**When you’ve got a tail that dense, it’s the quickest way to move. That belly-roll ridiculousness is for smaller-tailed people and sexed-up versions of merpeople.** _

Stiles lets out a laugh that turns into bubbles and he covers his mouth with his hand.

_‘That belly-roll ridiculousness,’ is amazing. You are the grumpy old man of the sea. I never thought I’d meet a supernatural person that was so super blasé about having supernatural abilities.  
_

_**What can I say. I’m one of a kind.** _

Stiles smiles at him.

_I think you really are._

Derek smiles back at him, gets a twinkle in his eye and then speeds up, turning them over and over like a torpedo and after a few thrilling seconds of that, he lets Stiles up for air. As soon as Stiles breaks the surface, he’s laughing excitedly and gasping for air, clutching onto Derek with a wide smile, “holy shit! _Holy shit_! That was the most awesome shit ever!”

Giving him another gentle stare, Derek tells him, “my little sister used to love that.”

“Your little sister sounds cool,” Stiles grins.

“Yeah,” Derek agrees solemnly, “She was.”

Stiles’ smile falls away a little and then he hears Scott calling for him. Stiles turns to look back at the shore the same time Derek does. Scott’s texting while walking and has a bag of takeout on his wrist. He obviously hasn’t spotted Derek yet. Stiles looks worriedly at Derek and Derek smiles kindly at him, “you’re in the shallows - avoid the sandbar, you’re about two feet from it. Tread until you can’t anymore. You’re safe.”

“What the fuck do I tell Scott?”

“Tell him you bumped into a shark, punched its nose and it swam away. Everyone buys that story.”

“Are you telling me everyone that has ever claimed that story was saved by a merperson???? Is that what you are saying right now?? Because now I have like fifteen other questions -”

“ _Go_ , Stiles,” Derek instructs, gesturing towards the shore, “Come back tomorrow. I’ll be around.”

Stiles throws his arms around Derek’s neck, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you, Derek.”

Derek seems thrown by the hug - that or he’s too awkward or grumpy to know how to hug a person back. Either way, Stiles lets go, smiles at him, promises to be back the next day and treads to shore.

He feels Derek’s eyes on him the entire way back and once he’s knee-deep and walking onto the shore, half-listening to Scott asking what the Hell happened to his board, he chances a glance back.

He catches just a glimpse of the shine of Derek’s tail fin slipping under the water again and he smiles, his heart feeling stuttered and constricted.

He gets the feeling that he’s just thrown himself into something deep that has nothing to do with the water.


End file.
